


lay with me here

by watergator



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 16:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16222559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: dan and phil are both feeling exhausted once the tour is over





	lay with me here

There’s a pile of pizza boxes that sit stacked on top of one another on the kitchen side beside the kettle. Phil looks at the pile of cardboard boxes; stares maybe a little too long when he jumps at the sound of the beep that the kettle makes when the water is bubbling and boiling.  
  
His eyes feel tired and sore, like how they feel when you’re a kid, after coming home from a sleepover where nobody got any sleep, except he’s been doing nothing but sleeping these last few days. The tour is over and it seemed the last few hurdles of it had punched the wind from his lungs, leaving him a cold, sad and tired shell of who he was just mere months ago.  
  
He know it won’t last forever though, this sadness. It’s a bit of post-tour depression that he knows that will soon fade away with the more time he spends at home. He knows that it’ll wash away and he’ll bounce back to normal once he gets the chance to visit his mum, or the next few nights of playing on the switch in his pyjamas with nothing else to do will remind him how not so bad being back home is.

He knows the same can be said about Dan.

He drops his tea bag into his mug he has set out and carefully pours the water into it. He watches the water fill to the brim, the water slowly changing colour as the tea bag begins to seep its contents into the liquid.

He swirls it round with a spoon with a rhythmic clink of metal against mug before he takes both tea bags out and dumps them into the sink.

He knows that with time, Dan’s brain fog will eventually lift and he’ll be okay again. He knows that this pain isn’t temporary and it’s just a bout of chemical imbalance within his brain along with the routine and lifestyle they were beginning to miss.

He pours the milk in and watches it swirl round and round. It’s therapeutic in a way.

They still have a lot to do. Tour isn’t really over yet, and won’t be until they’re both ready for it to be. They still have the movie and there’s the promise of Brazil and Mexico in the near future; there’s still things they need to plan and execute that involve the tour, and this is merely a prolonged pit stop back at home until things kick back into gear again and they’re okay again.

He takes his tea to the living room and sits down, bringing his knees to his chest taking a long, slow slip. It burns his tongue and slips down his throat like lava, but he doesn’t mind; he never has. He has many memories of Dan’s shocked expression as he’d watched him take a mouthful of hot tea or coffee without so much of a wince, before giving a cackling laugh calling him some spawn of satan if he’s able to endure that amount of heat and not get hurt from it.

He guesses sometimes he like the little tingly numb feeling he gets on the tip of his tongue when he drinks his tea too hot.

There’s nothing interesting to watch on tv; reruns of old bake off episodes play but Phil doesn’t care to pay any attention to them. The apartment it too quiet, too lonely and empty and sad here alone.

He takes another gulp of his tea and continues to browse through different channels, catching glimpses of each show pop up for seconds at a time.

He has a headache behind his eyes so he presses the volume button down with his thumb until the sound from the speakers are dulled down and quiet enough for him to concentrate of the thumping against his skull.

His feet are cold despite the socks he’s got pulled up to his shins underneath his pjs, so he sets his tea down and makes his way to their bedroom. It’s dark and warm in here. The bed is still messed up from where they’d both crawled out from this morning, and Phil’s jeans lay forgotten about on the floor from a few days ago.

He grabs the big, fuzzy, grey blanket that is strewn across the bed spread and wraps it around his shoulders.

He returns to the couch and settles in deep, wrapping the blanket around himself. He inhales and it smells just like Dan; warm.

He brings himself to curl up into a ball and tucks his feet under the blanket, wriggling his toes. He feels a smile grow on his lips as he snuggles in and gets comfortable, feeling as if perhaps it was somebody’s – somebody specific – arms wrapped around him keeping him warm on this cold October’s mid-morning.

The tv plays silently ahead of him and so he lets his eyes slip shut, his tea probably going cold on the table in front of him. But as the warm faux fur brushes up against cold arms that run with goosebumps, he can’t find himself to care.

When he wakes it’s because he feels something heavy pressing up against his back, and something wet against his neck.

He twists around to see Dan. His eyes are red rimmed and cheeks puffy; he’d been crying, Phil wasn’t sure how long for, so he scoots up as close as he can on the couch and presses a kiss to his nose.

“How was therapy?” Phil asks with a quiet voice. Dan shrugs as his hands find the material of Phil’s shirt and begins to grip onto it softly with delicate, shaky fingers.  
  
“You okay?” Phil asks, and Dan looks up to look at him with big sad brown eyes. Eyes Phil thinks he’ll never be sick of seeing. Eyes he’ll forever love no matter what emotion hides behind them. Right now they look tired and sad and hurt.

“I think so,” Dan tells him and he closes his eyes as he sucks in a shuddery breath.  
  
It’s an invitation for Phil to pull him closer as he tucks his head against his chest. Phil pulls the blanket over them both, tucking themselves up as they lay chest to chest across their sofa.

Dan cries a little more, his tears soaking through Phil’s pyjama shirt and Phil just holds him and tells him it’ll be okay.  
  
Because in the end, it will be.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


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